


almost fell into that hole in your life

by trustingno1



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustingno1/pseuds/trustingno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lines around his eyes deepen with amusement and he's mostly joking when he replies, simply, "I'm lonely."</p>
            </blockquote>





	almost fell into that hole in your life

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posting my older fics to AO3. Originally posted 24.05.2009
> 
> Title from Goo Goo Dolls' _Black Balloon_ ; no spoilers.

He's stretched out on the couch, hands clasped behind his head, and when he asks her out to dinner, she stares at him for a beat before her eyes dart around the empty office.

"What?"

He grins, a little knowingly. "You heard me."

She picks at the edge of the folder she's clutching with her thumbnail. "Why?"

The lines around his eyes deepen with amusement and he's mostly joking when he replies, simply, "I'm lonely."

* * *

He rolls up until he's sitting and leans forward, arms braced on his thighs and says, lightly, "Just two friends, sharing a meal."

She raises her eyebrows. "We're not friends."

He waves a hand at her. "Semantics."

* * *

He stops at his car, and she crosses her arms. He scratches the back of his neck, points to his car with his thumb. "Do you want to follow me?"

* * *

He tips the menu towards himself. "Are you ready to order?" he asks, and she because she knows what he's really asking, she frowns.

"I can order for myself."

"Of course you can," he says, genially.

"Don't patronize me."

"I wouldn't _dream_ of it," he replies, and she actually smiles slightly.

* * *

His eyes stay on her as he orders, and she can feel a flush creeping up her neck.

* * *

He watches her pick at her food, his head tilted to the side, and she catches his gaze, asks, unimpressed, stabbing a mushroom, "Does that really work?"

"Maybe."

"On _who_?" she scoffs (relaxes, slightly).

His smile is almost sheepish. "Not you, apparently."

* * *

He hands the wine list back without ordering, and she raises her eyebrows.

"What if _I_ wanted something to drink?"

"You don't," he says, simply.

"I don't?" and it's part amusement, part curiosity (a familiar feeling).

"No. You'd have said it was something about driving after drinking, about not wanting to risk it - not needing it on your record," he pauses, and she narrows her eyes slightly, "but it's really about control."

"Control," she repeats, dubiously.

"Control. You want to be in control of yourself around me - which, in itself, is actually quite interesting."

She ignores that. "I drink."

"Sure, with everyone else. Around me," he glances at the cuticle she's picking at, and her hands still, "around me, it's different."

She smoothes the napkin in her lap. "If you're just going to analyse me all night," she says, "I'll leave now."

He holds up his hands. "Please don't."

* * *

He takes a sip of his water. "Tell me something about you I don't know."

"I don't know what you know," she replies, dryly.

"Humour me."

"Fine," she sighs. "I ... I was a cheerleader in high school."

He grins. "Liar."

She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are dimpling with a smile she can't help, and he laughs a little.

* * *

"So," he says, conversationally, when she turns down dessert, "this hasn't been terrible."

"Speak for yourself," she snorts, and they both know she's kidding.

* * *

They both reach for the bill, and he raises his eyebrows. "Lisbon..."

"Jane," she replies, a little mockingly.

"This was my idea," he points out, tugging, gently, and she hesitates.

"I'll get the next one," she concedes, and he smiles, widely, at her.

"Deal."

* * *

He walks her to her car, and she rolls her eyes. "Do you have a _gun_?" she asks, pointedly, rhetorically, and he gives her an amused, sidelong glance. "You're useless," she mutters.

"You don't mean that," he says, easily.

* * *

He doesn't try to kiss her, and she's (almost) glad.

   
  
  
  



End file.
